THE PESSIMIST Most of our ills and troubles are not very serious when we come to examine the realities of them. Or perhaps we expect too much. An old negro was complaining that the railroad would not pay him for his mule, which it had killed-nay, would not even give him back his rope. "What rope?" he was asked. "Why, sah," answered he, "de rope dat I tied de mule on de track wif." Nothing to see but sights, Nothing to quench but thirst, Nothing to have but what we've got; Nothing to strike but a gait; Everything moves that goes. Nothing at all but common sense From "Ben King's Verse," Ben King. A PROBLEM TO BE SOLVED There are irritating, troublesome people about us. Of what use is it to be irritating in our turn or to add to the trouble? Most offenders have their better side. Our wisest course is to find this and upon the basis of it build up a better relationship. HERE'S a fellow in your office THE Who complains and carps and whines Till you'd almost do a favor To his heirs and his assigns. But I'll tip you to a secret (And this chap's of course involved)- There's a duffer in your district Just a problem to be solved. This old earth's (I'm sometimes thinking) One menagerie of freaks Folks invested with abnormal Lungs or brains or galls or beaks. St. Clair Adams. PROSPICE Here the poet looks forward to death. He does not ask for an easy death; he does not wish to creep past an experience which all men sooner or later must face, and which many men have faced so heroically. He has fought well in life; he wishes to make the last fight too. The poem was written shortly after the death of Mrs. Browning, and the closing lines refer to her. FEAR de mist in my face, EAR death?-to feel the fog in my throat, The When the snows begin, and the blasts denote The power of the night, the press of the storm, Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, For the journey is done and the summit attained, Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained, I was ever a fighter, so-one fight more, The best and the last! I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore, And bade me creep past. No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest! Robert Browning. THE GREATNESS OF THE SOUL Geologists tell us that in the long processes of the ages mountains have been raised and leveled, continents formed and washed away. Astronomers tell us that in space are countless worlds, many of them doubtless inhabited—perhaps by creatures of a lower type than we, perhaps by creatures of a higher. The magnitude of these changes and of these worlds makes the imagination reel. But on one thing we can rely-the greatness of the human soul. On one thing we can confidently build-the men whose spirit is lofty, divine. OR tho' the Giant Ages heave the hill FOR And break the shore, and evermore Make and break, and work their will; Alfred Tennyson. HEINELET What sheer perseverance can accomplish, even in matters of the heart, is revealed in this little poem written in Heine's mood of mingled seriousness and gayety. HE asked if she ever could love him. She answered him, no, on the spot. He asked if she ever could love him. Gamaliel Bradford. From "Shadow Verses," STAND FORTH! The human spirit can triumph over difficulties, as flowers bloom along the edge of the Alpine snow. TAND forth, my soul, and grip thy woe, STAN Buckle the sword and face thy foe. What right hast thou to be afraid Stand forth, my soul, and take command. Claim thou thy ground and thrust thy foe, I ask no truce, I have no qualms, From "The Hour Has Struck," Angela Morgan. |